Page 14 of Duke for the Summer

Lazy from food and beer, his muscles loose and leaden after his run, Nate napped in a patch of shade as Gracie and Mirabella talked nearby. Later, they convinced him to go into the ocean, and then Nate didn’t want to get out. The Mediterranean was calm and warm as a bathtub, and he scrunched sand between his toes on the sea floor, looking out at the shards of light dancing along the horizon. The immensity of being in another place hit him suddenly, how far he was from Oregon, his body submerged in a different sea, and Nate swayed, feeling a little dizzy, and had to lean back and dunk his hair in the water to clear his head.

“I’m glad you showed me the beach,” Nate said, back on the sand, over another beer with Gracie.

“Anytime. I’ll show you the market, too, and there is a Roman amphitheater on the other side of the island. And if you’dlike, we can take the ferry to Sicilia. There are a lot of good clubs there.” Gracie cast a look at Mirabella, who lay on the sand taking a nap of her own, her rounded belly rising and falling gently. “I need an excuse to get out of the house. I am only here for summer vacations, but it’s too much, sometimes. Everything is just preparation for the baby.” She rolled her eyes and clinked her beer against Nate’s. “So, I’m glad you’re here. Maybe now the family can focus on you, and stop asking me when I’m going to give them grandchildren, too.” Gracie grimaced. “Ugh, unless they think maybe we will fall in love. No offense, Nate, but I don’t think–”

“Nah, don’t worry. Not going to happen.”

“Do you have a girlfriend at home?”

“Gracie, I don’t–” he lowered his voice, looking out at the ocean, all the people out there. The light on the water seemed a little dimmer, somehow. Jacopo had said it was best not to advertise, and the hair rose on the back of Nate’s neck as he paused to think, really think, about the fact that he was very alone on a very small island in a very Catholic country. “I don’t like girls.”

She gave him a delighted look over the rim of her bottle. “Oh.Oh.Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I’m single.”

“Do you watch theDrag Race?”

“Gracie. Not all gays watchDrag Race.” Well, he did, but that wasn’t the point.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just very excited. I have nobody to watch RuPaul with. Nonna says it’s–”

“The Devil?” Nate hazarded.

“Exactly. And I’ve never had a gay friend. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Nate’s heart, which had clenched at the wordfriend, sank. Right. All the nice grandmas and grandpas and aunts anduncles probably wouldn’t be so fond of him if they knew he liked guys. He sighed, taking a long swig of beer.

“Anyway, you should come to dinner. Mamma is worried that you’re not eating enough.”

“I’m fine. I’m probably eating too much, to be honest. All that pasta she’s been sending to the house is delicious.”

Gracie frowned. “She hasn’t been sending anything. We all just leave Jacopo alone, up there. It seems to be what he wants.”

Where had the food been coming from, then? Had Jacopo cooked it himself? Nate took another gulp of beer, his stomach squirming oddly. He was looking out at the ocean, but in the forefront of his mind he was seeing Jacopo, his hunched shoulders and the cigarette hanging from his lips as he bent down to pet a sleeping cat. Jacopo who had been cooking for him and who told him stories about owls during the night and wouldn’t talk to him during the day.

“And once the castle passes over to you, I don’t even know if we’ll see him again.”

“What do you mean?” Nate felt panic rise in his chest, though he really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course Jacopo wouldn’t stick around. He barely wanted anything to do with Nate as it was. So Nate would be on his own, trying to figure out what to do with a castle and a dukedom. God, what a mess. Nate could barely remember to pay his taxes on time, and now he’d have a whole-ass estate to worry about. “He’s the caretaker. He’s got to stay. I don’t know how to manage the castle.”

“I’m sure you can hire someone to manage it for you. And you won’t have to live there, you know. A lot of the villagers hope you’ll open it up to the public, as a tourist attraction. They think it’ll bring the island money and create jobs. Make the young people stay.” Her freckled cheeks creased as she shot him a smile, but Nate couldn’t return it. “Although I don’t thinkselling keychains and spritzes to tourists would be any better than farming goats, personally.”

Nate picked at the label on his beer. “I can’t believe he would just leave. He hasn’t said anything about it.”

Gracie shrugged. “He’s been trying to for years. If it hadn’t been for Papà’s accident, I think he’d still be in Napoli. Or somewhere else. He’s not close with the family, you know. And I think for her, especially–” she paused, glancing at Mirabella, who had begun to stir, rubbing a hand over her face. “Never mind. Let’s go back to the house. Mamma has probably started cooking already.”

*

Jacopo had already smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and he was pacing so violently that the cats had all given him a wide berth. Periodically he would take out his phone and stare in agony at the lack of messages before stuffing it back in his pocket. He wouldn’t call. Nate’s business was his own, and he occupied enough space in Jacopo’s head already. It wasn’t fair that now Jacopo had toworryabout him, as well.

But as the shadows lengthened and the moon crested the hills and the smell of eucalyptus rose on the cooling air, Jacopo began to despair. The roads weren’t lit at night. There were too many ways to get hurt, and accidents happened fast out here, and images swarmed uninvited into his head: Nate lying in a ditch somewhere, Nate covered in blood, or kidnapped, or–

Or sauntering up the hill from the village like nothing was wrong, his hair curling in the sea air and his pale skin shining in the moonlight. He was wearing one of those loose tank tops that Jacopo hated, and there were muscles visible along the sides of his torso that Jacopo didn’t even know the name of in Italian.

He stabbed his cigarette out against the wall, not trusting himself to speak.

“Hey.” There was a lazy half-smile on Nate’s face, but it faded as Jacopo studied him.

“Where were you?”

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